


Unloaded Barrel

by Salamander



Category: Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Gun porn, M/M, unabashed fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 04:04:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2454068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salamander/pseuds/Salamander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the end of the week, Chris just wants to spend some time with Wesker. Unfortunately, paperwork has a habit of getting in the way. Well not this time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unloaded Barrel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LovelyAche](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyAche/gifts).



> When my LovelyAche calls, I write! Fluff and gunporn in one fic apparently.

Chris sighed. It was Friday night and, yet again, Wesker was pretty much chained to his desk with paperwork. The mountains weren’t as large as they had been in the past, but he knew full well that it’d be taking him all evening and probably a chunk of the night too. Wesker wasn’t one to leave paperwork undone, and they _had_ been pretty busy lately.

Even so, Chris didn’t feel like being generous about it. He’d given free passes too much lately, and yeah, he had a lot of pent-up frustration flowing through him that needed an outlet.

With a grim smile, he hung up his vest and belt, unloading his gun and setting it down on the table. He looked at it, thoughtfully, an idea sparking in his head.  Chris unclipped his handcuffs from the belt and, with another, wider smile, picked up now-empty gun as well, tucking it into the small of his back, down the waistband of his jeans.

“Hey,” he called out, short and clipped, that smile still on his face.

Wesker grunted in response, and Chris walked up behind him, throwing both arms around his shoulders.

“That’s all I get? A grunt?” He tutted, then turned his head to bite sharply on Wesker’s ear.

“Not tonight,” Wesker replied shortly, not paying attention to Chris in the slightest. He turned a page, and the simple motion had Chris seeing red.

In a smooth movement, he grabbed Wesker’s wrist and pulled it to the back of the chair, handcuffs springing closed around it and then around the chair leg, holding him there.

“Chris, what are you doing?” Wesker turned and snarled, annoyance flashing in his eyes. “I don’t have time for silly games, I have work to do.”

“I know you do.” Chris grabbed his other wrist, yanking it back perhaps a little harder than necessary, then cuffed it to the other chair leg with the second set of handcuffs. “And I don’t give a shit!”

He pulled the chair out from under the desk enough that he could drop to his knees in front of Wesker, half underneath the desk. Chris ran his hands hard up Wesker’s thighs, the gun a pleasant, promising weight at the small of his back. With deft fingers, he unfastened buttons and zip, yanking down Wesker’s pants enough that his neat boxers showed.

Wesker squirmed in his seat, tugging on the cuffs pointlessly. He sighed, fixing his gaze on the wall behind the desk. “Since you’re forcing me, then I suppose you should just get it over with.”

Chris stopped what he was doing, dead in his tracks. His hands went deathly still, lips and brow turned to scowl. “Get it over with?” His voice was a growl, low and angry, and yeah he felt like nothing more than pulling the gun from his waistband and whipping Wesker across those gorgeous cheekbones. He inhaled and exhaled again, closing his eyes as he somehow managed to hold onto his temper.

Once he was satisfied that his voice would be steady, Chris looked back up at Wesker. “For that comment, I’m going to make it last,” he growled, though with less anger this time. “And you’re going to fucking curse me before the end.” He gave Wesker’s thigh a hard squeeze. “I promise you that, you fucking asshole.” And if he could make Wesker beg, well that’d be all the sweeter. A victory Chris didn’t often get to revel in.

With a sharp movement, he yanked Wesker’s boxers halfway down his thighs, exposing his hardening dick and the lie that Wesker didn’t want this at all. A sense of relief washed over Chris, and he smiled, near-feral, up at Wesker. “Lying bastard,” he purred. “That’s what I like to see.”

“Hmm,” Wesker replied, finally looking down at Chris. Normally, he would sink his hands into Chris’ hair, guiding him in the precise way that he preferred. But with his hands cuffed securely, he could only grit his teeth in frustration at the complete loss of control.

Chris licked his lips then ducked his head, taking in all of Wesker’s dick, right to the back of his throat. He almost gagged, then forced himself to relax, breathing through his nose until his throat relaxed and the reflex faded. He’d had to smother his gag reflex ever since he started being with Wesker, what with his enjoyment of this exact kind of blowjob. It was impossible to gag with someone’s fingers steady in your hair after all. Impossible to come up for breath with that iron grip holding you in place.

All in all, it was a good job Chris loved doing it. Relinquishing control, giving himself over completely to Wesker’s pleasure, well, it got him off. And hard, too. But this time? This time he was in control. Chris smiled around Wesker’s dick, holding him in place with a firm hand on the thigh. There would be no bucking this time, no shoving down his throat or fucking his mouth.

It was at Chris’ pace, and he chose a slow one. Slow and steady; he drew off Wesker’s dick and licked the sensitive bundle of nerves on the underside of his head, pressing hard with the flat of his tongue.

He cocked an eye up at Wesker, watching for his reactions eagerly. Was that a whimper he just heard? Hmm.

Taking the tiniest of breaks, Chris licked the wetness from his lips and glanced up under his lashes, knowing how much Wesker loved to see him like that. “I brought something a bit different,” he murmured. “You’re not getting away with just a blowjob, you know.”

One hand slid round and Chris took hold of the grip of his gun, pulling it from his waistband smoothly. He held it up to show Wesker, who grunted again.

“What do you plan on doing with that?” Wesker’s voice was a little hoarse and yeah, there was a hint of flush at his cheeks. Always somewhat obvious considering his skin tone.

Chris stroked the barrel end up Wesker’s thigh. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Obviously,” Wesker hissed, squirming under the chilly metal. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have asked.”

“You’ll have to wait and see.” Chris set the gun down on the floor next to him then ducked his head, swallowing Wesker all the way once again. He kept him there this time, clenching his throat for a second before relaxing it again. The reaction from Wesker was worth the brief discomfort, and Chris did it again and then made a swallowing motion.

The pressure against the head of Wesker’s dick had him seeing stars. His hands clenched hard against the cuffs, desperate to hold Chris  _just there_ and jerk his hips, fucking his throat until he came. But the damned handcuffs, of course, and Chris’ firm hold on his thigh kept him in place, maddeningly still, and Wesker growled. “You’re being cruel,” he gasped, feeling his iron control slipping through his fingers.

Chris would have laughed at that, had he not had his mouth thoroughly stuffed full. Instead, he brought up his other hand to trace Wesker’s entrance, pressing his fingers against it and delighting in the way he clenched and tensed up.

He came up for air, scrubbing the back of his hand across his mouth to dry it a little. Chris turned, rummaged through the desk drawer and grabbed the bottle of lube they kept there before pumping out a good quantity onto his fingers then rubbing them against Wesker’s entrance again.

Without any warning, he slipped one finger inside the whole way, twisting and pushing until he felt Wesker relax enough to get another one inside. Chris hissed; fuck it felt so tight, just like usual, and thoughts of replacing fingers with his own dick filled his head. His erection was already straining against his jeans and the extra impetus only made it worse.

A groan from Wesker, his hips jerking upwards with the release of Chris’ hand. “More,” he said roughly. “More, Chris.” It wasn’t begging, no. More… demanding. Wesker’s usual style.

“Maybe.” Chris paused, two fingers deep inside Wesker, then thoughtfully added a third. “Maybe I should just use my fingers. Wonder if I could get you off with just them.”

Wesker growled. “Don’t you dare.” He lifted his hips again, driving himself down onto Chris’ hand.

“Or what? Not like you can do much like this, is it?” Chris shook his head, a slow smile on his face. He picked up the gun once more, stroking it down Wesker’s inner thigh. “Better keep still, Captain.”

With his other hand, he slicked lube down the barrel - it was oil-based of course, so wouldn’t affect the mechanisms - and then he nudged it up against Wesker’s entrance. The dark, sleek blackness of it was entrancing against Wesker’s pale skin, and Chris found himself fascinated for a second right up until his thoughts were broken by the sound of Wesker almost fucking  _keening_ .

“Shit, you sound so fucking hot right now,” Chris murmured. He was torn between watching Wesker’s face, his head dropped back and exposing that gorgeous throat, and watching the gun as he twisted it and slowly, oh so slowly, pushed it inside him.

It wasn’t loaded, but Wesker wasn’t to know that, and clearly the thought that it might be was doing something for him. He moaned, long and guttural, as Chris pushed the barrel all the way inside him, almost up to the trigger.

Chris’ free hand fumbled hastily with his jeans, freeing his aching dick and taking hold of it firmly. His hand was still slick, and he pumped himself hard as he fucked into Wesker with his pistol, head resting against his knee and breath coming hard and heavy.

Fuck. He didn’t expect the sight of it alone to be so hot. If Chris wasn’t careful, he could come there and then, just from touching himself and fucking Wesker with the gun at the same time. Something about seeing him there, panting and completely under his control was exceptionally erotic. Chris wondered if he could ever persuade him to do this again…

“C-Chris,” Wesker moaned, hands clenching so hard that his fingernails dug into his palms. He’d have terrible chafe marks at his wrists once this was over.

“Begging for it, already?” Chris’ own voice was ragged too. He reluctantly let go of his dick, hissing at the lack of contact even as he twisted the gun round inside Wesker, pounding it into him a couple more times for good measure before he pulled it out. “Go on,” he murmured, voice dangerous. “Ask me properly or you get nothing.”

Wesker snarled, feeling empty and cold as the gun left his ass. It stung, certainly, but there was something about the cold, unyielding metal that felt amazing. Not exactly something he’d ever thought about enjoying, but even he could be surprised. And it was especially pleasing that Chris was doing the surprising, not that he’d be too forthcoming with  _that_ information.

“Fine,” Wesker panted, feeling his body tense in anticipation. “Please?” The word was quiet, almost spat out, but it was there.

Chris smiled in triumph. “Since you asked so nicely,” he purred, using both hands to lift Wesker’s ass from the chair and get himself settled underneath. It would be uncomfortable, no doubt, but the feeling of hard flesh grinding against hard flesh was enough to drive those sort of cares out of his mind. Chris seated Wesker down onto his dick, driving hard inside him until he was buried completely.

Wesker’s head fell back against the chair’s high back with a  _thunk_ and he made that delicious keening sound again. Chris’ feet were flat on the ground, holding him as steady as he could manage and using one hand to brace against the back of the chair. He reached down between them both and took hold of Wesker’s dick, still slick and wet from the lube and blowjob combination.

With a thrust of his hips, Chris had them both moving. He couldn’t put too much force behind it with Wesker’s wrists cuffed as they were, but his thighs were strong enough to give him a fair bit of leverage.

His back muscles strained from the effort of keeping them both in position, but Chris ignored it. His hips rolled in a delicious rhythm, free hand attempting to stroke Wesker in time but becoming somewhat jerkier as his pleasure built.

Using the gun’d pushed him quite far already, and Chris had to pause for a second to get control of himself. After all, he’d promised to make it last, even if only out of spite and annoyance. He leaned forward, his chest against Wesker’s, and just breathed.

With a turn of his head, Chris kissed Wesker’s neck softly. “You okay?” he murmured, feeling slightly guilty for the forcefulness of the whole situation.

“Yes,” Wesker gasped, leaning into Chris. “It feels good.” He breathed, “Don’t you dare stop now.”

The words sent a shiver deep into Chris’ spine. “Yeah,” he replied, hoarse. He rolled his hips, driving them harder upwards with a quick snapping movement. Wesker’s reaction was gratifying; his moan, quiet though it was, and the way Chris felt his arms clench, tugging against the cuffs uselessly. He knew just how much Wesker would be craving to take control of the situation, to take hold of Chris and turn the tables on him.

His movements were far from smooth, jerking upwards and causing some strain on his thighs and ass. This time, Chris wrapped both his arms around Wesker, holding him in close and personal as he drove up and into him, harder and faster until he didn’t think he could sustain the effort any longer.

Wesker’s dick ground between their bellies, the friction of it making him gasp until he came, hot and wet between them. He collapsed forward onto Chris’ shoulder, breath coming in pants as he came back down to Earth. Hard to manage that when Chris was still nudging that sweetest spot inside him.

Chris moved slower, not quite flagging, just making it last as long as possible. He loved that feeling of teetering on the edge; not quite close enough to come, but dancing along it until he felt light-headed. His whole body clenched as Wesker came, tightening around his dick almost painfully, and Chris cried out.  His slow pace was harder to keep going with the ripples of Wesker’s orgasm flowing through him, but he kept it up somehow.

Wesker could barely breathe; head pressed against Chris’ shoulder, sweat dripping into his eyes, and still Chris moved inside him. “You weren’t joking,” he gasped hoarsely.

“No,” Chris whispered back. Talking was harder as he felt his orgasm build and yeah, he couldn’t hold it back any more. He blindly kissed Wesker as he crashed into orgasm, coming inside him so violently that he saw stars and his muscles strained in places he didn’t know could strain.

“Oh  _fuck_ ,” Chris moaned, sagging against Wesker too.

“Mm.” Wesker didn’t bother looking up; he didn’t have the energy. “I have to agree.” His voice was barely a mumble, muffled further by Chris’ shoulder.

Chris chuckled. “Sound happier, go on.” He ached like fuck, just about able to get out from underneath Wesker. He shakily crouched down to unlock the cuffs, placing them on the desk and massaging Wesker’s wrists gently. “How do they feel?” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the palm of Wesker’s hand.

“Sore. But they’ll heal.” Wesker sounded as short as usual, but Chris could hear the warmth in his tone. Probably invisible to anyone but himself, but it was definitely there. He massaged some more and then stood, draping his arms back around Wesker’s shoulders and planting a kiss on his neck.

“You gonna go back to work then?” He sounded hopeful, even though he was sort of resigned to that being what would happen.

Wesker hmm-ed under his breath, shaking out his wrists and then placing both hands over Chris’. He held onto Chris’ wrists firmly but gently, with his usual confidence, and Chris sighed at the touch. “I suppose I could make an exception,” Wesker said, mouth twisting in a smile. “Since it’s you.”

Chris’ heart leapt and he couldn’t hold back the huge grin that spread across his face. “I gotta clean the pistol out.” He picked it up from the table with a fake grimace. “It’ll get all rusty if I don’t do it quick.”

“Weapon maintenance is important,” Wesker agreed. “While you do that, I’ll finish this form and then meet you in the bathroom.”

“Mmm a bath, yeah sounds good.” Chris’ muscles protested as he stood, stretching a little. A hot bath would do him wonders, and especially after the hard day’s work he’d done too. Their bath was big enough to house the two of them comfortably, and with room to spare, so they could enjoy a pleasant soak without any discomfort or unnecessary elbows.

“Use the good salts.” Wesker shifted his chair back towards the desk with a minute groan. He turned his attention to his paperwork once more, filling in the blanks with his tight, neat handwriting.

Chris watched him for a minute, enjoying the way his hand glided over the paper, slender fingers holding the pen with deft ease. With a soft smile, he took the gun to his own desk, laying out all the cleaning equipment and dismantling it without needing to think about it. The automatic movements were soothing and he lost himself in the maintenance, a comfortable, loving silence spreading through the room.

After an indeterminate amount of time, Wesker stretched and stood, setting down his pen and papers neatly before walking over to Chris. “Did you get distracted?” he asked softly, leaning over to trace a finger down the disassembled gun barrel.

Chris looked up, startled, then smiled. “Yeah, a bit I guess.” He leaned back against Wesker, surprised to feel gentle lips against his temple. “I was meant to run us a bath, wasn’t I. Shit.”

“It’s okay.” Wesker nuzzled his nose against Chris’ ear. “We can run one now.”

The gentleness was unexpected, but not unwelcome, and Chris couldn’t keep the smile from his face. He loved this side of Wesker; warm and inviting, voice rich and deep rolling over him. He could honestly listen to him for hours, just talking nonsense or whispering sweetnesses or hell, even giving an instruction on weapon maintenance or something equally mind-numbing would turn him to jelly.

And oh, especially when he pitched his voice just that side of husky; words slow from his lips and yeah. “Bath,” Chris whispered, “now. I’ll tidy this up first.”

Wesker nodded then straightened. He hid a wince as his lower back and ass protested, but Chris caught it. “Go. I won’t be long.”

Without a word, Wesker turned and headed to the bathroom. He turned the hot tap to full, a satisfied smile gracing his lips as the room began to fill with steam. The salts came next; Wesker scooped a large helping from the wooden bowl and then let them fall under the running water, watching as they spread out through the bath. They tinted the water a pleasant blueish colour, and Wesker dipped his hand in to swirl them around just as Chris padded softly into the bathroom.

“Hey,” Chris murmured, wrapping both arms around Wesker’s waist. He pressed a kiss to the top of Wesker’s spine, looking down into the water with a smile. “Shit, that looks good. Come on, I don’t care if it’s not full yet.”

Wesker turned around in Chris’ arms and, with gentle hands, undressed him thoroughly and completely. Hands skimmed over sore muscles and sensitive places until Chris could have fallen over from the sensation of it.

“Fuck, I love you,” he breathed, looking up at Wesker.

An echoed smile and a nod, and then Wesker surprised Chris. “I love you,” he murmured, that little tilt to his mouth that Chris loved so much. “Even when you distract me from my paperwork, Chris Redfield, I love you.”

Chris laughed helplessly, leaning against Wesker as he fumbled off his uniform. “I know you do, asshole.” His words were fond though, and once they were both naked they climbed gingerly into the hot water.

The scent of the bath salts rose to Chris’ nose and he inhaled, eyes sliding closed with pleasure. The smell always reminded him of Wesker, and the strong arms around him combined to create complete bliss. He allowed his legs to float a little, feeling the hot water do its work on his aching muscles. “Are you sore?” he asked Wesker softly.

“A little, but it’s fine.” Wesker’s voice was languid and seeped with pleasure and Chris knew he’d be enjoying the water just as much as he was. “Maybe I should repay the favour sometime,” he purred, fingertips trailing lightly over Chris’ belly.

Chris shivered pleasantly. “God yeah,” he breathed. But for now, he was content to relax back against Wesker and enjoy their downtime together.


End file.
